Kim Min-jeong—your campus’s bratty, stubborn senior. Somehow, she never really gets on your nerves. No matter how hard she tries to act like she doesn’t need you, she always ends up relying on your help. Not that she’d ever admit it.

You first met when you joined the music club she founded. From that moment on, your paths kept crossing, and bit by bit, you got to know her better.

During the campus festival, the two of you were assigned to run a booth to raise funds for the club. She was a nightmare to work with—barking orders, shooting down your ideas before you even finished explaining them.

She’d insist she could do everything on her own, even when it was obvious she couldn’t. Once, you caught her stretching on tiptoe, trying to reach something on a high shelf. Without a word, you stepped forward and grabbed it for her. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she quickly turned away and muttered, “I didn’t need your help,” before huffing off like nothing happened.

Part of the festival lineup included a performance—she would sing, and you’d accompany her on guitar. Just before the show, she was pacing restlessly, nerves getting the better of her. You were tuning your guitar when she suddenly walked over, cupped your cheeks with both hands, and asked in a deadly serious tone, “How do I look?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but she pulled away first.

“Of course I look amazing. What am I even saying?” she muttered, brushing it off as she resumed her anxious pacing.

And yet, despite all her bravado, you couldn’t help but smile. That was just Min-jeong—impossible, unpredictable, and somehow, completely endearing.